


Before The World Catches Up

by DontLetHimGo



Series: Show Me Your Love [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 17 yr old Harry, 21 yr old Louis, AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Riding, Smut, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 04:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontLetHimGo/pseuds/DontLetHimGo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>They only met properly the day before, but Harry feels ridiculously intrigued by the other boy. He can’t quite understand how this has come about, but just standing there, looking at every tiny detail on this little pixie’s face, Harry’s lost in a labyrinths of thoughts and feelings inside his head, and he doesn’t have a compass.</i><br/>Or the one where Harry and Louis meet on holiday in Cyprus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before The World Catches Up

**Author's Note:**

> This has taken me waaayy too long to finish, but I'm hoping it's been worth it!  
> I'm really sorry Niall's only mentioned in this; he will be in part 2 (if you guys want part 2, that is...)  
> And I'm sorry if the smut is horrible - I'm very new to writing it.
> 
> All mistakes are mine - sorry if there are any!
> 
> Title from "Collar Full" by Panic! At The Disco.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction and this work is completely fictional.
> 
> This is a work written by myself, and I do not wish for it to be posted elsewhere. Even if you give me credit, I would much prefer that it stay here on ao3 and on my tumblr only. Thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT 21/01/14: On hiatus until further notice. (Sorry!) [[See here for more info!](http://birds-of-freedom.tumblr.com/tagged/writing-notices)]

There's the rush of warm air that hits the moment you step off the plane in a warm country, and that’s one of his favourite things. It always has been; ever since he was six and he and his family took a trip to the south of France during the summer holidays. It’s just so… pleasing. It’s that split second when it finally clicks that he's going to be in this different place for a while, and he can forget about his worries that he left behind at home – whether it’s for a week, or just a few days.

It’s the feeling of freedom.

That’s what he craves.

 

***

 

“Jesus, we’ve been here for forty-five minutes, and you’ve still got that ridiculous smile on your face.” Gemma rolls her eyes, sliding down the wall to sit next to her brother on the polished floor of baggage collection.

“Sorry, you must have the wrong person; m’ name’s Harry,” the boy replies, a single dimple still forming a crater in his cheek. 

Gemma appears to have given up as she shoves both headphones into her ears and continues to people-watch with a small scowl on her face. Harry just sighs, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh and inspecting the rip in his denim shorts.

 

It is another ten minutes before they have all of their luggage off the carousel, and the four of them are traipsing outside to get the coach to the hotel. Gemma is already complaining about the long journey ahead, but Harry wants to squeal in excitement about what lays the other side of the automatic doors at the end of the arrivals hall. 

He can practically feel the humidity volumising his curls the second his battered Converse are over the threshold. He can already feel the sweat beading at his temples, and his shirt sticking to his pale skin. It’s just _invigorating._

“Harry! Watch where you’re going love!” His Mum’s worried voice is suddenly beside him along with a hand on his arm, steering him away from what was apparently danger.

Harry simply hitches his rucksack up on his shoulder and continues to watch his step-dad’s back as he leads the way to Bus 62. 

“’otel?” the bus driver asks when they reach him. 

“ _Pavilila_?” Robin replies, showing the driver their hotel booking.

The Cypriot man nods, handing the papers back before picking up their suitcases and shoving them into the storage compartment of the vehicle, nodding at them to get on the bus.

 

***

 

He is woken up just over an hour later by someone yanking his headphones out of his ears and a voice saying, “We’re here, H. And thanks for dribbling on my top.”

Harry lets out a groan and sits up, rubbing at the side of his neck and picking up his rucksack from the floor.  “I better get time for a nap when I can get to a bed.”

“You’re such a lazy arse,” Gemma says as the two of them stand from their seats and get off the bus. 

“I’m on holiday,” the boy points out, “I can sleep as much as I want.”

 

***

 

“Well isn’t this an interesting view.” Gemma stands just outside the balcony doors and stares at the massive five star hotel opposite. “Just beautiful.”

“Hey, maybe we can be nosey at the snobs on their balconies,” Harry comments, looking over her shoulder. 

Gemma chuckles. “Why do we always end up people-watching when we go on holiday?”

Harry shrugs, a small smile still spreading across his face.

His sister ruffles his curls fondly. “I’m going for a shower, lil’ bro. Mum and Robin said to meet us in an hour, so get your stuff sorted.”

Harry nods and walks out onto the balcony, sitting down at the small table and propping his feet up. It still hasn’t properly clicked that he is finally on holiday; finally away from the stress of exams and school and _life._ He knows it will probably kick in when he’s stretched out on a lounger by the pool with an ice cold drink in hand and the hot sun warming his skin. Then he’ll know. 

Deciding to investigate the small room he and his sister will be sharing, he walks back inside, sliding the door shut behind him. There are two single beds at opposite ends of the room, each of them next to a bedside table and a chest of drawers. They would apparently have to share a wardrobe – which Harry knew would mainly consist of Gemma’s dresses – but generally, they have a decent amount of storage space each. Next to the dressing table, however, there is another door – similar to that for the bathroom – which Harry has no idea of its purpose. 

Refraining from coming up with numerous closet and Narnia jokes in his head, he reaches for the handle and pushes it down. The door swings open and what Harry expects to be some form of storage cupboard, turns out to be another room. The sheets on the bed are all crinkled and there are a number of miscellaneous items on the bedside table; an iPhone plugged into the wall, a half-empty bottle of water, a set of headphones, bottles of sun cream and a box of what looks to be Aspirin. 

Just as Harry is thinking about how he must’ve been stood there for too long to be able to see what was on the bedside table, the curtain in front of the balcony door is pushed aside and a boy steps into the room.

A boy with just a towel around his waist. 

“Oops!” Harry squeaks suddenly, his eyes widening at the fact he’d made himself known.

The boy spins round to face him, and his expression mirrors the other lad’s as he grips the tiny piece of material tighter in a fist. “Uh… Hi?”

“Oh gosh, I… I-I… Sorry!” Harry exclaims and doesn’t give the boy chance to reply before he is slamming the door shut, hurriedly turning the lock as his heart pounds in his chest.

_Note to self: Don’t go anywhere near that door again._

(And if Gemma comes out of the bathroom and asks Harry who he was talking to, his answer may not have been ‘the absolutely gorgeous guy who’s staying next door’.)

 

***

 

“Seriously, H, we’re nearly ten minutes late already. Can’t you hurry it up?”

Harry pokes out his tongue in concentration as one unruly curl continues to fall from the quiff he has just managed to form on the top of his head. “I’m nearly done!”

“What does it matter? We’re only going to the hotel restaurant,” Gemma points out, slipping on her shoes and cardigan. 

“Why is it such a problem that I want to look presentable?” he steps back from the mirror and nods at his reflection. “It’ll do; let’s go.”

 

The restaurant is very small – as the hotel only has 150 rooms – so Harry isn’t surprised when there are only two people in the food queue that separate him and the boy from next door. He nervously bites his lip and makes sure he maintains eye contact with either a member of his family or the shoes on his feet. 

“Harry, it’s getting busy; we’re going to go and save a table, okay?” Anne says, placing a hand lightly on her son’s arm to get his attention.

“Oh right, yeah, okay Mum,” Harry replies, moving his eyes from the ground and realising that he’s finally near the food table. He grabs a plate and begins filling it with food from the salad bar, deciding that after such a busy day, he deserves a three-course meal. 

Once his plate is full of leafy, pasta and potato salad, he reaches for a bread roll from the basket at the end and only notices another hand doing the same at the last second. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles when they both reach for the same roll and their fingers brush past each other. Grabbing the next piece of bread he sees, a voice in his ear – that melts like honey as it drips warmly down his back – murmurs, “You really need to stop apologising.”  
Harry swallows and drops a packet of butter on his plate before turning on his heel and marching across to the table where Anne and Robin are sat. 

“Are you okay, love?” Anne asks. “You’re looking a bit pink… you’re not ill are you?”

“I’m fine, Mum.”

(He misses the exchange of confused looks between his mother and step-father.)

 

***

 

The first few days of the holiday are perfect.

Harry finally gets his wish of sitting by the pool in his fluorescent trunks with an ice cold glass of orange juice in his hand, and the sun cooperates by shining brightly down on him all day. He thinks this could be the perfect example of pathetic fallacy, if his life were being documented for one reason or another.

The sky is always the perfect cornflower blue, with the occasional fluffy white cloud for contrast, and Harry thinks how he wouldn’t mind the ceiling of his bedroom back home being painted like that. If only to give a somewhat illusion that he had the freedom he always wants. 

 

So far, his mind has almost been completely absorbed by the joy filling himself and his surroundings, but there’s one niggling thought that is constant at the back of his mind.

Well, it’s actually less of a thought, and more of a particular _person._

He’s everywhere. 

It’s like fate decided to be a little shit and make sure that Harry is constantly staring into the face of his embarrassment. 

Sometimes he makes a little comment, and these vary from ‘ _Hi’_ to ‘ _Nice trunks_ ’ (which, granted, only happened once, but Harry felt his cheeks burning for a good hour afterwards).

The main issue is - half the time - it’s Harry’s own fault; sometimes he can’t help but look. 

(Especially when the sun decides to form some sort of spotlight over him as he dives into the pool, or laughs about something with someone, or probably just _breathes,_ Harry doesn’t know.) 

He knows it’s just physical attraction – because, well, he’s hot, and Harry’s only human. _He’s probably a right twat anyway,_ Harry assumes, as he subconsciously thinks about how beautiful and genuine his smile looks.

 

***

 

“Harry, if you want food, you’re gonna have to get your arse out of bed.”

 Harry groans, rolling over onto his other side and keeping his eyes tight shut. 

“It’s time for breakfast, H, wake up!”

“Nooo.” He pulls the sheet over his head and attempts to scrunch his eyes up even more. “Just bring me something, please? Like some fruit or summat, I dunno.”

He can practically hear his sister’s eyes rolling before the door slams shut behind her and he pokes his head out again so he can breathe. 

Just as he feels himself drifting off, he hears a loud yell followed by a clatter – which sounds like it’s coming from next door. His eyes snap open and he jolts up in bed, immediately worrying about the noise as he waits for any sort of indication that it really was his neighbour. 

“Fuck! Jesus Christ, that motherfucking… _ah!”_

There’s another crash, and this time Harry jumps out of bed, pulling on a pair of joggers and hurrying across to the door, pretty positive that after that yell – which, however hoarse, was definitely familiar – the boy next door was in fact injured. He hesitates before tentatively raising a fist and-

Suddenly, he jumps out of his skin when there are three knocks on the wall followed by a shout of:

“Uh, Harry? Are you there?”

“Um, yeah?” After a moment of silence, he adds, “Are you, o-okay in there?”

“Just come in!” the voice yells in response. 

Harry quickly turns the lock and pushes the door open, making his way into the other boy’s room without really thinking about it. He hears the shower running in the bathroom, and strides over to the sound, hovering outside the door for a moment before grasping the handle and opening it. 

The boy is lying in the bath, shower curtain flung haphazardly over him where he is shivering slightly in the water falling onto his hair, shoulders and chest. 

“Oh my God, are you alright?” Harry exclaims, stepping closer to the bath, panicking inwardly at the fact that he really _can’t_ remember any of the first-aid he learnt last year. 

“Do I look alright?” the boy says, an annoyed expression flashing across his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, of course you’re not, I’m sorry, I-”

The annoyance turns into a soft smile as the boy interrupts with, “What did I tell you about apologising?”

Harry opens his mouth to apologize once more, before stopping and biting his lip. 

“Better,” the other boy says. “Now, would you mind turning the shower off for me? I’m guessing the hotel’s ran out of hot water, ‘cos I’m bloody freezing.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Harry reaches over and stops the flow of water, watching as the boy’s shivering finally begins to subside. 

“Thanks,” he smiles. “Would you mind helping me up? I think I’ve twisted my ankle; I can’t put any weight on it.”

Harry nods and awkwardly shuffles closer to the bathtub, leaning over with his hands hovering just above the other lad’s skin. 

“Just support me under my arms, okay?” the boy suggests. “I can do the rest.”

In an act of teamwork, Harry’s neighbour is eventually standing up in the middle of the bath, facing another potential conundrum. 

Balancing on one foot and leaning against the wall, he realises that he cannot just step out of the bath without putting his injured foot down. 

After a moment’s thought, Harry finally squeaks, “I could carry you, if you like? I mean, well, not that I’m doing it because I think you’re incapable, or anything, but-”

“I would be very grateful if you could,” the boy answers, wrapping the shower curtain tightly around his waist before pushing off of the wall and waiting as Harry decides how he is going to lift this boy up. He decides on bridal style, quickly putting an arm at the back of the other boy’s knees and another across his shoulders so he is completely supported. Once the boy is comfortable in Harry’s arms – or as comfortable as possible, considering the circumstances – Harry carries him out of the bathroom and gently places him down on the bed. Harry can’t quite believe just how _light_ and _delicate_ this boy is. (Plus, he can’t help but notice the still slightly damp skin pressing against his bare torso, which feels… _nice._ )

“You okay?” he asks gently.

A smile plays at the corners of the boy’s lips. “Much better, now that you’ve been here to save me.”

Harry can almost feel his cheeks burning at those words; he stares down at his feet. 

“’M Louis, by the way,” the boy says, finally introducing himself. 

“Harry,” Harry replies meekly.

“I know,” Louis says.

 _Of course._ Harry internally face-palms. 

“The walls are quite thin.” Louis shrugs before playfully poking Harry’s shoulder. “Heard someone didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.”

Harry blushes again – and it’s not because of Louis’ words. It’s after a moment that he realises he is still looming over the other boy on the bed, his hands pressed into the sheets either side of his waist from where he put him down. Quickly stepping back, he forgets that the dressing table is behind him, and he knocks over a can of deodorant. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, standing it upright.

“Did you just apologise to deodorant?” Louis asks, a smirk playing at the corners of his thin lips. 

Harry doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he moves his shoulders up the slightest bit and blinks. 

After another fairly long few seconds of the boys watching each other, Harry clears his throat and shuffles slightly on his feet. “I ought to, uh, get going; my sister will be back soon. Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m sure. I’ll get my mate to come and give me a hand with getting dressed and whatever.” There’s a pause before he grins wickedly, moving his hands to clutch at the material wrapped around him. “I’m guessing it’s a bit much for you to see my dick on top of everything else.”

Harry has to hold himself back from throwing a hand over his mouth and giggling like a schoolgirl; instead, he turns a deeper shade of pink and nods. 

“I guess I’ll see ya later then, Curly.”

Harry quickly nods again and says his goodbyes before stumbling out of the door, trying to not let the pathetic grin that the nickname created show too much on his face.

(He knows he’s failed when the first thing Gemma says when she steps through the door is, “I’m worried about what could have possibly made you smile like an idiot.”)

(Harry’s response was a lie about having a good dream; Gemma clearly didn’t fall for it – he can’t lie to save his life.)

 

***

 

The pool is wonderfully silent.

It is still fairly early; there are a lot of guests still eating in the restaurant and the beach is more popular on good days like today, so he knows he’ll have a bit of time with the pool all to himself. 

Dropping his towel on the nearest sunbed, he strides over to the edge and jumps straight in. 

It’s bloody freezing – but he doesn’t mind. He takes a moment to watch the ripples he formed as they spread out around him. The sun is still fairly low in the sky, so the water is a deep blue; he stretches out in a starfish on the surface of it, letting himself float. 

Just as he finds himself lost in thoughts, he hears a loud burst of laughter before he’s covered in a big splash of water. Suspecting that the children had finally decided to show themselves and invade the pool, he puts his legs back under, so he’s simply treading water. 

It’s not a child.

“Hi Harry!” Louis exclaims, splashing him again.

Harry wipes the water off of his face and brushes his damp hair back. “I thought you’d be resting your ankle,” he comments.

Louis just grins, his eyes shining from the reflection of the water. “Turns out I didn’t hurt it as much as I originally thought.” 

_Did he just wink?_

“Well, uh, that’s good,” Harry says, unsure of what to do or say next. 

“Fancy playing some water polo with us?” Louis asks, gesturing behind him where, further down the pool, two boys who Harry has seen with Louis before are throwing a neon-green ball to each other.

“Um, okay; sure.” He nods, swimming after Louis to the shallow end, surprised that just by helping him earlier he had become able to not only speak to the other boy, but be invited to join him and his friends. 

“Guys, this is Harry – he’s staying in the room next to mine.” Louis slaps a hand down on Harry’s shoulder. “Here to make the teams even, aren’t ya Haz?”

Harry nods shyly, smiling politely at the two other boys.

“I’m Liam,” the closest one says, holding his hand above the water for Harry to shake. “And that’s Zayn,” he adds, gesturing over his shoulder where the other lad is stood in the shallowest part of the pool, with water only up to the heart tattoo on his hip.

“I can introduce myself, you know,” Zayn points out. “Hi, Harry. I’m Zayn – nice to meet you.”

Liam fondly rolls his eyes and turns to face Zayn. “Happy now?”

“I am, actually. Thanks for asking.”

Harry just stands in silence with Louis’ hand still on his arm, watching the two boys banter back and forth.

“You do eventually get used to them acting like an old married couple; I promise,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s ear. Louder, he says, “Right guys, let’s get playing!”

 

Over the next two hours, Harry discovers a competitive streak that he didn’t know he had. He’s on a team with Liam (as Louis had pointed out that he didn’t want to put up with ‘lovey-dovey nonsense’ – at which Zayn inquired ‘between who?’ and Louis snapped that he would be on a team with Zayn) and it appears that his competitiveness is somewhat contagious. Then again, Zayn and Louis are also very much into the match (to the point where it seems like they’re competing against one another as well as the other team) so it all becomes pretty serious. 

It’s when Louis and Zayn are declared winners that Louis announces that Liam will be buying drinks later. 

“What about Harry? He lost too,” Liam complains, attempting to do his version of puppy-dog eyes as Zayn splashed him.

“I, uh… I’m not old enough.”

There’s silence, as Zayn stops splashing and the three of them watch him cautiously. Harry feels as if they’re expecting him to tell them he’s joking. 

“How-” Louis clears his throat. “How old are you, Haz?”

 _Shit._ Harry thinks. _He is a right twat after all._

He realises he’s been silent for a moment too long, his eyes flickering between the three boys stood in front of him, each of them asking different questions with their eyes.

“Um, I… um-” 

“Harry! We’re going for lunch love, are you coming with?”

Harry lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and turns to face his mother, who is stood on the side of the pool, smiling kindly.

“Just a sec,” he calls back, quickly turning to face the others for another brief second. “I’ll see you later,” he mumbles before leaving them still standing with the same expression on their faces.

 _Well I’m not going to be seeing them again,_ he thinks. 

 

They’re still in the pool when he gets back from lunch, so Harry decides to settle on a sunbed, pulling his Ray Bans over his eyes and attempting to find an interesting article in Gemma’s magazine to read. 

However, it isn’t long before he is peeking over the top of it, watching the three boys playing piggy-in-the-middle with the ball. Louis’ currently the unfortunate soul in the middle, and appears to be struggling to catch the ball as Zayn and Liam arc it high over his head.

“You two must be fucking telepathic, I swear,” Harry hears Louis exclaim as he gets more and more frustrated. 

Liam and Zayn are constantly in fits of laughter as they watch Louis failing, but there’s a massive increase in volume when Louis dives for the ball and ends up underwater. 

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Louis says sarcastically when he resurfaces, glaring between them before looking straight ahead – in Harry’s direction. 

There’s a second when their eyes meet, and Harry feels frozen until Louis’ look turns apologetic and Harry sharply turns away, bitterly staring at the words on the magazine he’s holding, although all he’s reading is _LouisLouisLouisLouis._

***

 

“Do we have to?” Harry groans, stabbing a prawn with his fork. “I bet she’s crap.” 

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Anne reasons. “The girl behind the bar told me she’s very funny.”

“Well the staff aren’t exactly going to discourage us from going to the entertainment, are they?”

“Harry, we’re going – and that’s final. If you think it’s crap, you can leave.”

Harry shoves a forkful of rice into his mouth and thinks about how long he might be around for before this ‘Dorothy Diamonds’ begins to annoy him. He knows that the hotel entertainment can be pretty good at times – like those parrots on roller-skates the other night; now they were cool – but just by looking at the poster of ‘Dorothy Diamonds’, he has a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that she is the type to drag people out of the audience – and he’s an easy target. 

 

***

 

“Well now it’s the part of the evening that I know you all _love,_ ” Dorothy Diamonds announces in her overly-enthusiastic voice. “It’s the time that I can sit back, relax and watch as some of you wonderful people make fools out of yourselves.”

A weak chuckle passes through the audience and Harry audibly groans, earning a nudge from Gemma. 

“And tonight, I’m looking for some particularly _attractive_ people to participate in my Hottest Hotel Guest competition.”

Straight away, hands fly into the air and Harry rolls his eyes. _Who would volunteer for this?_ He scans the area, seeing if any of these people are even attractive, and spots the last person he expected to see at the hotel entertainment on a Friday night. (Well, he should hardly be surprised really, after all of their random meetings over the last few days.)

Louis is currently holding one of Zayn’s hands in the air, while Liam holds the other. Zayn is complaining, trying to fight against them, and as Louis lets out a loud cackle, he catches Harry’s eye, and his face changes almost straight away. 

Harry sucks in a sharp breath and turns away again, watching Dorothy making her way through the tables and looking for models.

“Now, now,” she says into her microphone. “I can see that this is going to be a difficult decision… what about you, sir?” She flops down into a spare chair next to a middle-aged man with a receding hairline. “How would you feel about being entered into the most attractive hotel guest awards?”

The guy laughs awkwardly. “I’m not sure about that,” he mumbles when she offers him her microphone. 

“Nah, neither am I actually; you looked better from over there.”

He laughs, as does everyone else on his table and those surrounding him; Dorothy stands and straightens her large, rainbow-coloured dress as she continues her search.

Harry gets bored of watching and listening as she picks on certain people; hestares down at his hands clasped together on the table, getting tempted to leave but knowing it would only make him more obvious. 

After a moment, however, he can’t help but turn to see her standing by a particular table by the bar when he hears a familiar voice.

“But Zayn’s got his hand up! He’ll do a better job than me!”

“Maybe, but we’ll never know until we try, darlin’. Come on, love; let’s get you in my fashion show, shall we?”

Harry hears Louis groan exasperatedly into the microphone as Zayn laughs obnoxiously, cheering with Liam as Louis stands and is led to the front by Dorothy. On their way, she’s reminding everyone that she still needs another competitor, and Harry barely notices Gemma’s wicked grin before she drags Harry on to his feet, announcing, ”HE’LL DO IT!”

Dorothy stops in her tracks and looks Harry up and down before nodding and grabbing Harry with her free hand. “Perfect! Now we have two competitors, and because I’m pretty sure none of you sorry lot want to volunteer, this will have to be a two-man competition. And - I don’t know about you - but I certainly ain’t complaining about these two.” 

There’s a chorus of _ooohs_ as Dorothy winks obviously and pulls each boy closer to her.

“Now, what are your names?” she asks, first holding her microphone to Louis and then to Harry.

“Where are you from, Louis?”

“Well, I currently live in London, but I’m originally from Doncaster.”

“Cool. And Harry?”

“Um, Cheshire,” Harry replies nervously, already worrying about making a fool out of himself. You see, the main reason he dreads this sort of thing, is the fact that he can’t help but always put his _all_ into it, which often results in him looking incredibly stupid. He has a terrible feeling that this might happen tonight.

 

It does.

The fashion show, _of course,_ involves wearing ridiculous outfits and strutting through the audience and posing and, _ugh_ , just general embarrassment really. Harry goes along with it though, trying not to get _too_ affected by the competition (because, Jesus _Christ,_ Louis looks good, no matter what he’s wearing – especially when he’s shirtless).

However, the fashion show is the easier part.

Next, they have to do their best pickup lines. Louis goes first, letting out a fairly long – but very effective – spiel; Harry tries not to be too obvious when he goes weak at the knees. But then he’s panicking; he has no idea what to say for his. 

“Your turn, Harry!”

Harry swallows and clears his throat, feeling butterflies in his stomach as he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Did you drop a banana skin, or was it just me falling for you?”

There’s a pause, and Harry thinks he might’ve died from embarrassment, but then everyone’s laughing and Dorothy’s holding Harry’s hand in the air announcing that however sweet Louis’ was, Harry’s would definitely be the one she went for. 

“Right well, after Louis’ triumphant modelling, and Harry’s wonderful charm, we have reached a draw. So now, I hand it over to the audience to decide.”

As Dorothy goes over what’s going to happen, Harry finds himself turning his head slightly to look in Louis’ direction, just to find that Louis is already watching him, a soft smile on his face and a glint in his eye which makes Harry unable to do anything but smile back. 

“If you think Harry deserves to win, make some noise!”

The audience begins to cheer loudly, breaking Harry out of his reverie as he moves his eyes away from Louis’ and looks out at the people clapping and shouting for him to have victory. 

“Okay, okay,” Dorothy interrupts, waving her arms. “How about Louis?”

More noise erupts over the crowd, and Harry’s pretty sure it’s louder than what he got – and they’re completely right; Louis is certainly the hottest one here.

“I believe we have a winner!” Dorothy announces when everyone falls quiet. “The official Hottest Hotel Guest at Hotel _Pavilia_ is…”

There’s a pause as Harry prepares to applaud his competitor, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see Louis rolling his eyes.

“Harry!”

 

***

 

“Ooh, look who it is,” Gemma says loudly when Harry returns to the table, pitiful red rosette pinned to his shirt, “the ‘Hottest Hotel Guest’!”

“Sod off,” Harry replies, sliding into his seat and resting his head in his hands. “It’s thanks to you that I was just completely humiliated.” 

Gemma scoffs. “Hardly! Everyone loved you!”

Harry laughs bitterly. “I’m pretty sure they loved Louis more.”

“But who won?” Gemma asks rhetorically. “Besides, it seemed like it was just one person in particular who was paying more attention to him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before Gemma has chance to reply, someone is clearing their throat behind Harry, and he turns to see Louis standing there; Harry thinks it might be the first time he’s ever seen him looking slightly nervous.

“Hi,” Harry says, a welcoming smile creeping onto his face. “You alright?”

Louis grins back and nods. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

“Sure.” Harry throws a quick glance in Gemma’s direction as he stands, gesturing for Louis to lead the way. 

 

There’s a Koi Carp pond separated from the swimming pool by a low wall of rocks, which has a little bridge going across it. During the day, it’s normally covered in kids fascinated by the colourful fish, but in the evenings it’s empty; illuminated by soft blue lighting that surrounds the whole area. Harry has often walked past it on his way back to the room, but he’s never realised just how beautiful it is. However, its beauty could be questioned if Harry’s company is anything to go by.

Harry has no fucking idea how this Adonis could exist – let alone have lost a competition against him. 

So that’s how he finds himself staring at Louis a little bit too much. Luckily he doesn’t seem to notice and starts to speak.

“Harry, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Harry snaps out of it. “Sorry?”

“For earlier. It was unfair of us to be bothered about how old you are, and I-”

Harry surprises himself when he reaches out a clasps a hand over Louis’ mouth, effectively shutting him up. Louis squeaks in surprise, but doesn’t fight it.

“You should’ve won.”

Louis lets out a muffled sound of annoyance, shaking his head indignantly and Harry mirrors him.

“No, you should’ve. My pickup line was about a bloody banana skin.”

Louis’ chuckle is quiet but appears to be genuine.

“So,” Harry uses his free hand to unclip his prize from his shirt, “I present you with the ‘Hottest Hotel Guest Award’.” He raises an eyebrow before gently removing his hand from Louis’ face and attaching the rosette to Louis’ t-shirt. “Congrats.”

It seems to take a moment for the two of them to realise that Harry’s hand is still resting on Louis’ chest once the award is clipped onto him. Harry watches as Louis glances down at it, and then looks back up, directly into Harry’s eyes. Harry begins to panic, scared that he’s fucked up already. (For God’s sake, he doesn’t even know if Louis’ gay.) Just as he’s about to apologise and pull his hand away, Louis speaks. 

“Thank you,” he breathes. 

Harry nods, and barely notices that he’s leaning forwards until Louis mumbles:

“So, how old are you?” 

Harry continues to lean, but towards the other boy’s ear, whispering, “Seventeen.”

Louis sucks in a breath, letting it out with what sounds like, “That’s hot.”

“What?”

“You’re hot for seventeen,” Louis amends softly, reaching out a hand and gripping a fistful of Harry’s button down shirt as the younger lad pulls back to look at him again. He has a slight pink tinge to his cheek.

There’s simple centimetres between their noses now; they’re close to collision but far from caring, trapped in a bubble on the bridge over the pond.

 

They only met properly the day before, but Harry feels ridiculously intrigued by the other boy. He can’t quite understand how this has come about, but just standing there, looking at every tiny detail on this little pixie’s face, Harry’s lost in a labyrinths of thoughts and feelings inside his head, and he doesn’t have a compass. 

Louis just seems like an angel; sent from the heavens to be that _someone_. The someone whom Harry’s been looking for for the past three years, since he realised that a girl wasn’t going to be that person. It seems like madness; that something as insignificant as a door joining their rooms together could have maybe helped him find that person. 

It could be the fact that he’s on holiday, or it could be the fact that he still has that feeling of freedom running through him, but one thing he knows for certain is that he wouldn’t say no if Louis tried to kiss him.

As if already reading each other’s thoughts in the creepy way that Liam and Zayn do, it’s Louis that moves onto his toes and presses his lips to Harry’s when Harry is unsure what to do next. Immediately, Harry is leaning down and letting Louis fall back onto his heels, keeping their lips fused together. Louis whines, curving against Harry’s body as he licks along the seam of his lips, attempting to coax the other lad’s mouth open. Harry groans and eventually gives in, opening his mouth gently and feeling Louis’ tongue sneaking inside. Feeling hands knotting in his hair, Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, pulling him tighter to his chest. 

“Lou…” Harry mumbles against the other boy’s lips, and Louis pulls back slightly – only for a second, however; he soon starts pressing kisses against Harry’s jaw, nosing along his cheek.

“Louis,” Harry says again, his voice wobbling and apparently causing Louis to remove his lips from Harry’s skin. 

“What’s wrong?” he says, so softly, Harry barely catches it.

“I don’t, uh, understand.”

 

It’s surprising how one simple comment can cause such tension and silence between two people. The mood drops dead, lying on the floor between them as they continue to stare at one another. Harry can’t read Louis’ expression; it appears blank, but Harry thinks he can see a spot of something in the azure of his eyes. It makes him feel slightly on edge.

“Lou?”

“Jesus, shit, I’m so sorry, Harry. I swear to God I just wanted to apologise; I don’t what came over me, I-”

“Please don’t worry about it,” Harry says, in an attempt to reassure him that it was okay.

“Good, good.” Louis steps completely away from the other boy. “Can we please just… forget about it? Friends?”

There’s a pause before Harry weakly croaks, “Of course.”

Louis breathes a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Harry. You really are lovely.” He gives Harry a quick hug, resting his chin on the taller boy’s shoulder.

 

Harry feels all of the wind knocked out of him as he watches Louis bounding away, feeling a knot tying up his insides as he continuously tells himself not to cry. 

He’s left standing alone on the bridge, staring down at the ground and knowing he’s well and truly fucked it up now.

_Note to self: Being friend zoned really isn’t all that fun._

***

 

He wakes up the next morning to a loud knocking. Still half- asleep, he mumbles something about Gemma getting it, but then he hears a soft, muffled voice through the wood of the door.  

“Harry? It’s Louis, can I come in?”

Harry sits up then, pulling the sheet tightly around his naked body and glancing over at the other bed to see it made up and empty. 

“Uh, sure?” he eventually says, the affirmative coming out as a question as he remembers that he didn’t lock it after last time. 

The door handle is slowly pushed down and Louis pokes his head round. “Is it safe?”

“If you’re talking about my sister, then yes.”

“Oh no, I meant your sleeping naked.”

_What?_

Louis chuckles at Harry’s expression. “Thin walls,” he reminds him, banging his fist lightly against the wall by the door. 

Harry feels embarrassment wash over him as he remembers Gemma’s ranting the previous evening about him putting on some clothes to sleep in.

“Anyway, I did actually come here for a reason,” Louis says, stepping completely into the room. “You’re coming to the beach with us today.”

“I am?” Harry asks, thinking about how his family were talking about hiring a car and going for a drive today.

Louis nods. “No arguing.”

 

***

 

“The beach? I thought we were going out for the day.”

Harry nervously bounces on his toes, looking over his mother’s shoulder to see if Louis is out of his room yet. “You guys can; I want to go to the beach.”

“On your own? I don’t think so.” Anne looks unimpressed, frowning as she appears to be wondering where her son has got this idea from.

“I won’t be on my own; I’m going with some friends.”

Anne sighs, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. “Robin’s getting the car now; we can’t just waste it.”

“Please?”

 

***

 

Allowed to go to the beach on his own, (as long as he’s back at his room by four) Harry feels pretty grown up as he walks down the sand to where he can see Liam trying to set up a parasol over three sunbeds. Louis’ already stretched out on a lilo, completely in the sun with the remains of sun cream glistening on his skin. However, at the sight of Harry, he’s on his feet, skipping over to him and grabbing his hand, dragging him over to the others and offering him a drink. There’s a brief silence as Harry looks into their cool-box and sees that all they have is cans of beer; he plucks one out, pulls the cap and takes a sip before the others do the same.

“See _we_ weren’t offered a drink, Harry; you must be a VIP,” Zayn comments, nudging Harry with his elbow. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “This is a pre-body-boarding drink, guys. It’s necessary.”

“I didn’t know we were body-boarding,” Harry says, swallowing another mouthful of beer.

“Tradition,” Liam explains. “We can’t come on holiday together without body-boarding at least once. Louis’ idea.”

“Of course,” Harry mutters as Louis throws down his now-empty can and claps his hands together.

“Let’s go!” He grabs one of the two body-boards by the loungers and takes off sprinting along the sand. The other three exchange facial expressions for a moment before downing the rest of their drinks and following, Zayn carrying the other body-board. 

 

They’ve only been going for an hour and Harry already has sand everywhere – mostly in his shorts, which isn’t particularly comfortable. He’s also pretty sure there’s a lot in his hair too, which he knows will be a pain to wash out. 

But none of that matters really, because he’s having the time of his life. If he thought that water polo the other day was fun, he can’t even find a single word to explain what body-boarding with them is like. His stomach is hurting from laughing so much, and his cheeks ache from excessive smiling, but god, he couldn’t care less if he tried. 

Obviously, it can’t be completely perfect. _What is?_

Harry can’t keep his eyes away from Louis. It becomes slightly hard to bear when Louis attempts to stand on the board and falls off practically straight away, resurfacing with his hair in his eyes and his golden skin reflecting sunlight as if he was the source. 

“I’ve never seen a more obvious creepy-love-stare in my life.”

Harry jumps when Zayn appears beside him, pinching his arm. 

“It’s not a ‘creepy-love-stare’,” Harry mumbles.

Zayn laughs. “Sure it’s not.” 

The two of them stand in the shallow water in silence for a while, watching Liam and Louis laughing together as they wait for another big wave, passing the time by skipping over the smaller ones. 

“It _so is_ a creepy-love-stare.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because that’s how I’m looking at Liam right now,” Zayn points out. “But at least Liam’s my boyfriend.”

“Thanks for that,” Harry mutters.

“ _Oooooh_ ,” Zayn sing-songs. “ _Now_ I get it.”

There’s a pause as Harry takes in what Zayn has just said.  

“Oh, no, no, _no,_ ” Harry blurts, finally turning to face the other boy. 

“Careful, Harry; might sound like you’re trying to hide something.” Zayn chuckles, raising his eyebrows. 

“’M not. Seriously, we only met the other d-” 

“Don’t give me that. There’s no limit to how quickly people can become attracted to one another, and maybe that was just meant to happen with you two.” After a moment to let that set in, he begins making his way over to the other two. 

Then it clicks.

“What do you mean, ‘us two’?” Harry exclaims.

Zayn turns and walks backwards, shrugging and whistling what sounds like the chorus of ‘ _Skinny Love’_ by Birdy. 

 

“See? That’s why it’s a tradition.”

Louis flops down onto his lilo, water dripping from his temples, down his neck and settling into his collarbone. Harry has a sudden urge to fall beside him and lick them all up; taste the salt and sun on his skin. 

“I think Zayn and I are just gonna go for a walk. We’ll be back in a bit; you can have my sunbed, Harry.” 

“Thanks.”

Harry takes his towel out of his bag and lays it on the sunbed closest to Louis, watching Zayn and Liam as they walk down the beach hand in hand, making their way to the point where the water and sand meet, footprints melted by the oncoming waves.

He’s broken out of his thoughts when Louis suddenly stands, demanding that Harry move up so he can sit behind him. Harry’s slightly confused as he watches Louis straddling the sunbed behind him, telling him to move forward a bit. 

“The sand in your hair is bugging me,” Louis explains, reaching up and beginning to brush the small particles from Harry’s scalp. “You really need to learn how to body-board. I can’t do this for you every time.”

Harry wants to ask the question, but he can’t. 

Louis doesn’t seem to have quite registered what he just said, and Harry wonders whether he meant it in the way it came out or if he just meant later in the afternoon. 

It eventually comes out.

“Every time?”

Louis freezes where he is combing his fingers through Harry’s curls. “Well, if we see each other back home, I mean. We could go to Skeggy or something.”

“Sure!” Harry goes along with it. “I like that idea.”

_I like you._

“Cool.” Louis finally continues in his job of removing the sand, but Harry can tell his mood has changed since that brief conversation. Both of them know that after this holiday, they’ll never see each other again. It’ll be one of those things where you talk about sending letters, or a friend request on Facebook, but nothing ever happens.

That’s just the way it is.

Louis will just be remembered as ‘ _that boy I fancied the pants off in Cyprus_ ’.

 

***

 

Harry leaves not long after that. Zayn and Liam haven’t returned from their walk (Louis jokes that they must’ve found some sort of snog-rock) so he tells Louis to pass on a message of ‘bye and thanks’. When he’s halfway towards the showers to wash the sand off his body, he hears Louis behind him.

“Will you come out with us tonight, Haz?”

“Out? Out where?”

“There’s a bar just down the beach that we’ve been to quite a bit…” Louis suggests, still holding on to one of Harry’s shoulders where he got his attention.

“A bar? You know I can’t-”

“Don’t worry about that! We can buy for you, or we could all stay sober. Either way it’ll be great– especially if you’re there.”

Harry doesn’t really _get_ Louis. One minute he’s all quiet and acting weird around him, and the next he’s inviting him out for a drink. It doesn’t really make much sense; he just hopes he’s doing the right thing when he bites his lip and nods. 

“Awesome! I’ll get you from your room at eight!” Louis exclaims happily, throwing his arms around the other boy in a quick embrace. 

 

Harry twirls a string of spaghetti around his fork, shoving it into his mouth as he contemplates what to say to his mum and step-dad about going out with the others after dinner.

“So, Mum, you know how-”

“What do you want?”

Harry pauses for a moment, before leaning forward on his elbows. “The guys are going out tonight and-”

“No,” Anne and Robin simultaneously say, shaking their heads.

“But-”

“Harry, you’re seventeen. I’m not letting you go out somewhere with some guys you’ve only just met on holiday!” Anne tells him, picking up her napkin and wiping the corner of her mouth.

Harry sags back in his seat again, thinking up what to say next, knowing that little will persuade his mother to change her mind. 

“Now, instead we’re going to play minigolf for the evening – won’t that be nice?” 

Harry barely lets out a huff of annoyance before his mum speaks again.

“Did you really think we’d say yes?”

He doesn’t answer, moving the remaining sauce around the plate with his fork – probably acting childish, but it seems necessary at the time. 

 

***

 

“Wasn’t that fun?” Robin says as they leave the mini-golf course – which had turned out to be a tiny area of concrete, coloured green with what looked to be chalk, holes drilled into the ground and miscellaneous items to act as obstacles. 

“And well done to Harry!” Anne adds. ‘Those golfing lessons have really paid off!”

Harry miraculously won the game by a grand total of three, however much he spent the whole time daydreaming about what the others could be doing. He had slipped a piece of paper through the adjoining door before they left, explaining to Louis that he’d hopefully see him the next day. Now he is just hoping that Louis hasn’t found anyone else to dance with – _or grind against_ , he absently adds – which is a musing he wishes he understood more.

He basically turned Louis down, for fuck’s sake – he’s lost his chance already.

“Harry!” 

There are suddenly fingers clicking in front of his face and Gemma is there. He blinks and raises his eyebrows in question. 

“Mum and Robin want to go for a drink at that bar over the road – you up for it?”

Harry shakes his head. “I think I’m gonna go back to the room, if that’s alright.”

“Okay; I’ll let them know for you.” She ruffles his hair and walks quickly ahead to where their parents are crossing the road. “See you later!” she shouts back over her shoulder. 

Harry returns the farewell and begins making his way back to the hotel. It’s about a ten minute walk and as he’s sliding his key-card though the lock, he feels relief wash over him; he’s never liked walking through places he doesn’t know very well at night. As soon as the card’s in the power and the air con is blasting cool air into the room, there’s a knock on the door.

The _adjoining_ door.

After barely a moment’s thought, Harry is walking over to it and turning the handle, opening it to see Louis stood the other side with a bright smile on his face.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” he says.

“I thought you were going out,” Harry points out. 

“Nice to see you too, Harold. Can I come in?”

Louis pushes past him and enters the room, choosing to perch on the edge of Harry’s unmade bed. 

“So why couldn’t you make it? I hope you don’t want to get rid of me,” Louis comments, appearing to be a bit jokey, but Harry thinks he can see a glint of hurt in the blue of his eyes. 

“No; no, not at all! It was…” Harry pauses, hating how his reason just sounds so _lame_ , “my Mum.”

“Oh,” Louis says, sympathy taking over the hurt. “I’m sorry ‘bout that.”

Harry shrugs. “Just a bit disappointed I couldn’t make it, s’all.”

The other boy nods in understanding. “Anyway, doesn’t matter now.” He bounces further up the bed and pats the space next to him. “C’mon; let’s talk.”

“Talk ‘bout what?” 

“You. I wanna know more about you,” Louis answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry stands in his place, slightly shocked by what the older lad has just told him. No one’s ever been bothered to find out any more about him that what they first learn about him. You know, things like ‘he has curly hair’, ‘he’s really quiet’, ‘he’s mates with that loud Irish kid’ and if they’re really lucky, ‘he has a cat called Dusty’. Apart from Niall – and now Louis – no one’s ever cared. 

“ _Me?”_ he eventually squeaks, daring to peek at the boy on the bed instead of his shoes. 

Louis smiles softly. “Of course.”

 

***

 

There is a saying that everyone knows: ‘ _time flies when you’re having fun_ ’, which Harry thinks is just one of those sayings that his teachers use at the end of a lesson that seems to have dragged on for years, but after talking with Louis for an hour and forty five minutes without even realising, he thinks he might understand it now. 

They’ve learnt almost everything about one another – Harry eventually got Louis to answer questions after some time – from their birthdays to where in the world they’ve visited. Harry still isn’t over just how _interested_ Louis is in what he has to say. Normally people have given up by the time he’s part-way through a story. 

After a moment of silence of them laying side by side on the twin bed, Louis’ arm wrapped around him, Harry speaks up once more. “Why do you care?”

There’s a pause as Louis appears to be thinking up the right answer. 

“So you really don’t know.”

Harry frowns. “That _is_ why I asked.”

Louis lets out a heavy breath which causes a couple of Harry’s curls to move out of place. The older boy gently pushes them back. “Zayn told me he spoke to you.”

Ice-cold panic spikes Harry’s blood as he attempts nonchalance. “B-briefly, yes.”

“And what was the last thing he said?”

“I…I can’t remember.”

“Harry,” Louis says sternly, using his free hand to grab the younger boy’s chin so their eyes can meet. “Are you really just stupid, or acting oblivious?”

“I-”

Harry doesn’t have chance to answer properly as his mouth is suddenly preoccupied by Louis’ lips moving against his. The angle is awkward; his neck is tipped back painfully and Louis still has a fairly tight grip on his chin, but he can’t help but feel completely relieved as Louis kisses him. Eventually, Louis removes his hand from Harry’s face and places it at the other boy’s waist, rolling them over so Harry is beneath him, lips still fused together. 

“Harry?” 

Harry opens his eyes again to see Louis hovering centimetres above him, worry darkening his features. 

“Yes?” Harry whispers gently.

“This is okay with you, right?” Louis asks tentatively.

“Of course it is.”

As Harry leans up to kiss him again, Louis pulls back. “But last time it wasn’t.”

“Oh Louis,” Harry says. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to stop; I was just worried you’d kiss me and not care afterwards. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. Just…” he pauses and bites his lip, “as long as you’re okay with it now, I don’t mind.”

Harry’s never seen Louis this way before. He seems _smaller_ somehow; like he’s more vulnerable, and all Harry wants is to protect him. He may be four years older than Harry, but Harry can see his own nerves reflected in Louis’ words. 

“Please don’t ever doubt the way I feel for you,” Harry breathes.

Louis smiles softly. “I won’t; as long as you don’t.”

Harry shakes his head and leans up again, being much more successful in getting a kiss this time. 

“I’ve wanted this since I saw you in that towel,” Harry mumbles against the other boy’s lips, before pulling back and shaking his head.

Louis chuckles, looking considerably happier. “And I’ve wanted you since I saw that little blush on your face as you slammed the door.”

Harry shakes his head again, the embarrassment from that day coming back to haunt him. The corners of Louis’ lips turn up into a smirk as he puts his weight on one elbow and moves Harry’s hair from his face so he can kiss him again, much softer than before. 

Their lips move together at varying pressure, tongues meeting between their mouths as Harry’s hands move up Louis’ back so they can tangle in the long, soft hair at the back of his head. Louis lets out a soft sound of pleasure at that, still leaning on one arm as he strokes a thumb backwards and forwards across Harry’s face. 

Soon they have to pull apart to breathe, but it isn’t long before Louis’ leaning back in again, hands either side of Harry’s body as he starts sucking a mark into the younger boy’s neck.

“My mum will kill me,” Harry pants, throwing his head back to expose more of his skin. 

“All the more reason to do it,” Louis mumbles, nipping at the skin again. “She’ll see that her little boy isn’t as pure and innocent as she first thought.”

“ _God_ Lou,” Harry moans, his body curving up towards Louis’ chest in pleasure. He’s starting to get embarrassingly hard in his shorts, and it gets worse when Louis purposely begins moving their hips together. 

“No, L-Lou; w-wait.” 

“What? What is it?” Louis pulls back in a panic.

“I ca… can’t… I can’t…” 

Before Harry can get his words out, there’s a knock on the door. 

“H, it’s Gemma! I forgot my key; can you let me in?”

_Shit._

Harry scrambles out from underneath the other boy, doing up the top two buttons of his shirt – which he can’t remember Louis undoing – and, as an afterthought, pulling on the only jumper he brought with him, which is luckily long enough to cover the boner tenting his shorts. 

Louis is leisurely putting his Vans back on his feet, sat on the edge of the bed.

“Louis!” Harry hisses. “You need to go!”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Great. Thanks, Harry.”

“No, Lou; you don’t understand! My family don’t know I’m g-”

“Harry!” Gemma knocks again, much more insistent.

“I’ll see you later,” Louis says, still in the same bitter tone, and walks across to the door. There’s no hesitation as Harry reaches out for the sleeve of Louis hoodie, pulling him back and kissing him hard. Louis tries to pull away at first, attempting to squirm out of his strong grip before Harry raises a hand and strokes his cheek softly, just as Louis did to him earlier. Louis appears to melt into his embrace as Harry pulls back. 

“You said you’d never doubt the way I feel for you,” Harry reminds him. “I’m just not ready for you to meet any of my family or anything, yeah?”

Louis nods. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Harry places one last kiss on the slightly smaller boy’s lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Louis squeezes his hand. “Okay.”

Harry watches as Louis leaves the room, closing the door silently behind him as Gemma starts another bout of knocking. “C’mon, Harry; I’m getting worried now!”

Harry rolls his eyes and hurries over to the door, throwing it open and walking back to sit on his bed.

“Where the fuck were you?!” Gemma exclaims, slamming the door shut and throwing her bag onto the dressing table.

“Chill out; I was on the balcony,” Harry lies, hoping it’s effective.

“Oh yeah, sure; _damn_ those marks you get on your neck from sitting on the balcony!” Gemma says sarcastically before swanning off into the bathroom. When the door shuts, another opens and Harry quickly stands, shuffling across to the boy in the doorway. 

“Goodnight kiss?” Louis suggests, raising an eyebrow cheekily.

“Always,” Harry replies, ducking down and kissing the other boy softly, still not quite sure just why Louis is so interested in him. 

 

***

 

The next morning, Harry wakes up before his sister and makes his way over to the balcony – after pulling on a pair of boxers – for his daily lookout. Not much is going on at this time, but it’s just nice to go outside and breathe the different air, watch the different cars go by and see people entering the supermarket over the road, buying different foods that he’d never find back home.  

“Morning.”

Harry jumps at the sound of a familiar voice, turning to his left to see Louis stood on his balcony with a takeaway cup in his hands. 

“You’re up early, aren’t ya?” 

“Sort of,” Harry replies. “Where did you get that?” He nods at the drink.

“Liam always goes to breakfast early and gets me a cup of tea,” Louis replies, stepping closer to the waist height wall between them and holding it out. “You want some?”

Harry swallows the tea gratefully; he hasn’t been to breakfast most of the week since he learnt that Gemma could just go for him and get some fruit. 

Louis clears his throat after a moment, and Harry stops, peeking at him over the top of the cup. 

“I would like to have some left, of you don’t mind,” Louis says as Harry sheepishly hands it back. 

“Sorry; I just sort of miss having tea in the morning.”

Louis chuckles softly. “Same. I can’t live without it.” 

Harry watches as the other boy takes another sip; observes how Louis’ Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, how the morning sun is catching his skin and the thin line of blue they can see over the top of the five star hotel opposite is reflecting in the azure of his eyes. He looks too _pretty_ for this time in the morning.

“Thank you; ya don’t look bad yourself,” Louis comments with a smirk, and Harry realises with a flash of embarrassment that he’d said that last part out loud. That’s why he shouldn’t get up any earlier than normal. 

 

***

 

They don’t see each other all day. Louis and his friends had planned to go to the waterpark for their last day, while Harry’s family – his mum and step-dad specifically – decided that they wanted to go souvenir shopping in the local town. This end up taking much longer than originally planned, and they only get back to the hotel at five o’clock, which means going straight for dinner.

“So, kids, considering it’s our final evening,” Robin says when they’re all sat down, “your mum and I were planning on going out for the evening.”

“Gemma will be in charge – so be good, Harry, okay?”

Harry rolls his eyes. _He’s seventeen for God’s sake; why does he need a babysitter?_

“We don’t mind where you go, as long as you stick together, right?”

“Yes, Mum,” Gemma says sweetly, smiling as she kicks Harry’s shin under the table.

Gritting his teeth, Harry just nods with a grin that probably looks more like a grimace. 

 

“Do you even know what this means?” Gemma asks excitedly as she unlocks the door.

“That we can go to the hotel entertainment so I get humiliated again?”

“I knew you loved it,” Gemma says, pushing the door open and dragging Harry inside. She doesn’t stop at her wardrobe like Harry expects; she strides straight over to the adjoining door and knocks loudly on it. 

“Gem, what are you-?”

The door is suddenly flung open and Louis is there, a bright smile on his face as he expects Harry, which drops when he sees Gemma beside him.

“Hi?” he greets nervously, fidgeting on his feet. “Is something wrong?”

“There won’t be if you listen to what I’m going to ask you,” Gemma replies, letting go of Harry’s sleeve and crossing her arms.

Louis’ eyes widen as he takes in Gemma’s words. “O- _kay?_ ”

“Good. Well, as you probably know, tonight is our last night here in Cyprus. I’m going out for the evening, and our parents have already left, so I would like it if you could keep my brother company for the evening.”

Louis barely blinks before he’s saying, “Of course, I would-”

“Careful, Louis, I’m not quite finished,” Gemma warns. “I also would like to add that, considering I am now in charge, you and your friends _can_ take him out – but you better stick with him at all times, yes?”

Louis nods quickly, keeping his mouth shut in case Gemma has any more to say. 

“I’m glad I’ve made myself clear.” 

She then proceeds to close the door in Louis’ face before turning back to her little brother.

“Wear your black jeans and that white t-shirt,” she says, speaking as if her words were those of wisdom. 

“Won’t I be a bit hot?”

“ _Exactly_.” 

 

Gemma shoves Harry into Louis’ room about twenty minutes later, after hugging him and telling him to ‘ _go get ‘em tiger_ ’ before Harry barely has chance to worry about what she might be thinking.

Louis’ sat on the bed and waves to Gemma before she closes the door, smiling as Harry slowly sits beside him. 

There’s barely enough time to be classed as a moment before Louis is taking one of Harry’s hands from where they are nervously tangled together on his knee and intertwining their fingers, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.  

“Hi,” he whispers as they pull apart.

Harry just smiles, already feeling the little buzz in his veins he gets from Louis’ presence, multiplied by a factor due to the fact that he’s finally getting the opportunity to be with him in the way he’s wanted for what feels like months, when it’s not even been a week. 

“We’re gonna meet up with Zayn and Liam at the bar in a bit – that’s if you still want to go out. I don’t mind what we do really; we can-”

“Lou; I’d love to go out.”

It’s now Louis’ turn to grin as he squeezes Harry’s hand and stands, pulling the younger boy up with him and out of the door.

***

 

Liam and Zayn are already at the bar when Louis and Harry arrive, drinks in hand and heads close together, appearing to be having a private conversation – which Louis immediately interrupts with the announcement of his presence, sliding into the seat opposite and pulling Harry into his lap.  

“Couldn’t you give us a moment?” Zayn asks, sounding slightly irritated. 

“Feel free to carry on; we can occupy ourselves,” Louis says, gesturing with the hand that isn’t wrapped around Harry’s waist before turning back and kissing the boy on his knee instead, moaning obnoxiously loud. 

“Ugh, okay! We’ll pay attention to you; just stop,” Zayn complains. 

Louis pulls back, chuckling as Harry attempts to chase his lips. 

“So, Harry,” Liam starts, effectively breaking the gaze between them, “we missed you today.”

And as Harry starts talking to Liam about what he spent the day doing instead, he tries to ignore the faint pressure he feels on his temple that he gets when he knows someone’s watching him, because this would probably be the first time anyone’s ever looked longer than barely a glance. 

 

It’s not much later when Louis murmurs into Harry’s ear that he’s going to buy a round of drinks, asking what he’d like. 

“I’ll come with you,” Harry replies and leads the way over to the bar, hopping up onto a stool when he gets there. 

“What are ya having then?” Louis asks again, standing beside him and kissing his cheek. 

Harry bites his lip and tries to decide whether alcohol would be a good idea or not. He has little experience of it really; being a bit of a social outcast has led to not being invited to many parties, so the only alcohol he’s ever had has been either at family meals or those few times he’s gotten completely hammered with Niall- and he really doesn’t fancy making a fool out of himself in front of Louis.

The bartender has now arrived and is looking at Harry expectantly.

“I’ll have a Coke, please.”

 

“I sincerely hope there’s vodka in there, Harry, otherwise Louis has something to answer for.”

“Hey! I did offer!” Louis complains loudly, putting Zayn and Liam’s drinks in front of them and taking his own from Harry’s hands. “Thanks, babe.”

Harry feels a light shiver across his body at the pet name, however much he knows that Louis uses that name for a lot of people. It just seems _special_ for him, somehow.

He’s brought back to reality by Louis patting his leg for Harry to sit again, clearly ignoring the _‘he could just get a chair’_ from Zayn. 

Harry does the same, perching on the edge of Louis knee and soon being dragged into the older boy’s chest. 

“Besides, Harry can drink what he wants, thank you very much,” Louis says protectively, keeping one arm wrapped snugly around Harry’s stomach as he leans forward to pick up his lemonade. “And I’m fine with staying sober.”

Harry frowns. “You don’t have to because of me.”

Louis shrugs. “I don’t mind either way.” He presses a quick kiss to Harry’s lips as Zayn makes a whipping sound; Louis’ free hand is then used to flip him the bird. 

 

***

 

Not much later, neither boy has had anything to drink, but they’re pretty much the only people on the makeshift dance floor of the beach bar. Zayn and Liam are just stood off to the side, drinks in hand and shuffling slightly on their feet as they talk. Harry and Louis on the other hand are stood in the centre, lights strung up all around the gazebo above them as they dance barefoot, soft sand beneath their feet with almost every part of them touching. Louis’ arms are looped around the taller boy’s neck, Harry’s hands are on the older lad’s petite waist as they foreheads hover centimetres from one another and their hips occasionally collide, causing shocks to fly up both of their spines. 

They aren’t saying much; odd song lyrics leave kissed lips, along with the compliments that Harry thinks will be ringing in his ears for a while.  

 

***

 

“I have an idea,” Louis announces, sipping his coke – which Harry finally convinced him to add brandy to – and leaning back in his seat. “Did you know that there’s a five star hotel opposite ours?”

“Yes... What about it?” Liam asks cautiously, seeming to already know where this might be going. 

“I think we should pay it a visit.”

“Lou; no.” Harry shakes his head, determined that it’s a bad idea.

 “Why not? Anyone can go in for a drink or a meal – it says on the podium outside.” He pauses before grinning in Harry’s direction. ‘They have a rooftop bar…”

“And that’s supposed to convince me?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow. 

 

Unfortunately, it does. 

Twenty minutes later, the four of them are stood in a pristine, marble-effect floored lift, with mirrored walls and a highlighted _T_ button on the panel by the door. 

As the lift travels up the tall building, Louis bounces impatiently on his toes and throws an arm over Harry’s shoulder. “It’ll be fun!”

“It better be,” Zayn grumbles, being the least willing participant of this adventure. 

Liam smiles. “Of course it will!”

The doors choose to slide open at that moment, announcing the boys’ presence with a subtle _ding!_ They walk across the foyer to the door leading outside, and just before Louis reaches for the handle, Liam grabs his arm.

“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

“Of course not,” Louis replies, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t be doing much good on my date if I embarrass myself now would I?” 

Raising his eyebrows pointedly at Harry, he pushes both doors open with a flourish, allowing the others to walk through first. 

The area outside is completely lit up by strings and strings of fairy lights as well as lamps spread out across the wall around it; there are numerous tables and chairs dotted around, with candles on each and a bar at the far end which a few people are sat at, all of the women in summer dresses and the men in smart shirts and trousers. Harry immediately feels out of place. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Fuck that! Let’s make the most of it!” Louis exclaims, marching over to the bar. 

 

***

 

They last for an hour and thirty minutes.

It starts going downhill when Louis’ on his fourth brandy and coke, and insists on dancing madly at the table to the smooth jazz playing through the speakers. The other people surrounding them begin to look over in annoyance so Zayn covers his mouth and Liam grabs his arms to stop him waving them around. Louis soon gives up fighting against Liam’s (surprising, to Harry) high strength but continues to let out somewhat tuneful muffled sounds against Zayn’s hand.

“Jesus Christ, Louis, remind us who’s the oldest again?” Zayn’s complaining as Harry giggles into his drink. “Don’t encourage him!” he adds, scowling in the younger boy’s direction. 

“Mmay fine ‘ll sop!” Louis finally says, winking obviously at Harry as Zayn moves his hand away and Liam lets go. “I think we should buy Harry a cocktail.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “What sort of cocktail?”

“Sex on the beach,” Louis replies, shrugging as if the answer was completely obvious. The scary thing is that Liam and Zayn have the same expression, which says ‘ _Harry, you’re an idiot_ ’.

Louis then scuttles away to the bar, leaning over it dramatically and exclaiming in the bartender’s general direction.

“Harry!”

Harry eyes move to Zayn, who looks slightly agitated. “If you can take your eyes away from Louis’ arse for just one second…” 

Harry grins sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“We were just gonna say that we’re probably going to leave soon – maybe you and Lou should do the same.”

Harry nods, looking over at Louis once again, who is now returning with his lips in a pout. 

“Their cocktails are too expensive.”

Harry finds himself mirroring Louis’ pout in sympathy. “That’s a shame.”

Louis nods, flopping down onto Harry’s lap and burying his face into the taller boy’s neck; it isn’t long before he starts leaving lingering kisses and nipping at the skin. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow then, Lou,” Zayn says pointedly, standing up with Liam and tucking their chairs in.

“What?” Louis mumbles into Harry’s collarbone, pulling back to add, “Where’re you goin’?”

“Back to the hotel,” Liam explains. “We’re getting up early to pack. Please don’t forget that we’re getting picked up at two pm – and you need to get out of the room by eleven.”

Louis rolls his eyes, snuggling further into Harry’s arms again. “As if I would forget.”

Liam and Zayn both lean around Louis to hug Harry goodbye properly, considering it is probably the last time they wil see him for the holiday. Harry feels a strange emotion at that thought; he hasn’t known them long, but he has really began to think of the two of them as friends. 

“We’ll find you on Facebook, yeah?” Zayn says, patting him on the back.

Harry nods and smiles as he hopes that they do keep in touch, even though it’s most likely that they won’t. 

As Liam and Zayn walk away, hand in hand, Louis turns back to the boy he’s sat on the knee of, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Are you ready to go too?” 

Harry shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Well,” Louis brushes his fringe from his forehead and leans towards the other boy’s ear, “I have a good idea.”

Harry gasps softly when he feels Louis’ teeth nibbling on his earlobe. “And w-what might that be?”

“Aha! Seems that I have managed to bring back that nervous boy who helped me when I fell in the shower…” Louis murmurs, “…and yet, I would still let him fuck me. In fact, I might even _want_ him to…”

Harry jolts in his seat and Louis smirks into his skin. “Something I said?”

 

***

 

Louis kicks the door closed behind them as their lips meet, eagerly pressing together as tongues move between mouths and hands grip fistfuls of clothing. Harry can almost hear his own heart beating in his ears as Louis gently pushes him down onto the bed, sitting him on the edge and straddling his legs, lips still fused. Confident hands reach for the hem of the younger boy’s t-shirt, tugging it upwards as Harry hesitantly raises his arms.   

Louis senses the hesitation, slowly pulling back and looking Harry straight in the eye as the dim light from the moon fills the hotel room. 

“Are you okay?”

Harry nods quickly. 

Too quickly.

“Oh god, have I pushed you? I didn’t mean to; I just thought, that with tonight being the last night and all, that-”

Harry presses his palm flat against Louis’ mouth, just as he had done the previous night. “I want this;” he says assuredly, “I’m just not entirely sure that _you_ do.”

Louis’ eyebrows raise in question.

“You’ve had quite a bit to drink Lou, and I don’t want you to sleep with me just as a drunken mistake.”

The older man’s eyes widen and he shakes his head as a frustrated expression covers his face. Harry removes his hand to let him explain.

“It wouldn’t be a mistake at all! Besides, I’m not even drunk; I only had that one you persuaded me to at the beach bar. I’ve just been having coke otherwise.”

“So… you actually want this?” Harry asks.

“More than anything,” Louis replies. 

He gasps loudly when Harry grips his hips and rolls the two of them over, so Louis is underneath and Harry’s knees are bracketing the smaller boy’s hips. Louis realises that he’s panting when Harry leans down to whisper in his ear.

“You want me to fuck you?” 

Louis lets out a moan at that, gripping the sheets beside him in his fists as he nods, whimpering: “Please.”

“Are you sure?” One of Harry’s hands leaves Louis’ hips and slowly begins to press against Louis’ growing erection in his shorts.  

Harry watches as Louis’ Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. 

“Pretty sure.”

It’s in a brief moment and a swift movement that Louis’ shorts and boxers end up on the floor, and Harry’s tongue is slowly moving up from the root to the tip of Louis’ dick. Louis’ hands move from gripping the sheets to clutching at the curls on Harry’s head instead, absent-mindedly guiding the other boy so he would do the job properly.

“So impatient,” Harry mutters before taking part of Louis’ now completely hard cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, and moving back up again to press it into the slit, collecting the pre-come gathering there.

Louis lets out a loud whine and presses down on Harry’s head again. Harry gladly accepts the action and moves his mouth further down until two thirds of Louis’ dick is in his mouth, and he is struggling to function, not knowing how far he can go until he has to stop. 

“Harry, Haz, babe, please – I’ll come if you keep going; I need you to stop.”

Harry pulls off with a _pop,_ crawling up the older man’s body to press a kiss to his lips. “What now, then, princess?”

Louis’ breath is heavy now, and he still has a hand knotted in Harry’s hair; there’s a pause before he speaks. “Don’t you know?” he asks.

All of a sudden, Harry’s act of being confident and knowing exactly what to do drops to the floor, and he panics. Obviously, he’s been quiet for a second too long; Louis’ eyes squint in sympathy.

“You’ve never been with a guy before, have you?” he enquires softly, loosening his hand and stroking it through the other boy’s hair rather than holding it in an iron grip. 

Harry slowly shakes his head. 

“That’s okay,” Louis consoles. “I’ll talk you through it.” He then adds, “But if you’ve never been with a guy, where the hell did you learn to give head like that?”

Harry shrugs. “Let’s just say that I’m pretty sure there’s some satisfied bananas out there.”

Louis lets a loud guffaw of laughter, which is soon cut off my Harry’s lips covering his and a tongue moving into his mouth. 

A few minutes later, Louis presses one last peck to the other boy’s lips before wiggling out from beneath him and hurrying across to the bathroom. When Harry hears him rooting around for something, he decides to remove his skin-tight jeans and boxers, stretching his long body across the bed to surprise Louis when he re-enters the room.  

_Surprise_ is a bit of an understatement.

Louis practically _runs_ across the room, throwing the items in his hands onto the bed and falling on top of Harry, kissing him hungrily again and clutching at the skin of his waist, rutting lightly against him. Harry lets out a choked moan at that and starts moving his hips against Louis’ too, their dicks pressing together at every movement. 

“I swear to God, Lou; you’re gonna be the death of me,” Harry groans.

“Good way to go, don’t you think?” Louis replies, pushing himself down on a particularly hard thrust which causes Harry to let out a choked moan.

Louis slows down in his movements and reaches out to grab the bottle of lube on the bed beside them, pulling up so he is straddling Harry’s thighs. 

“Don’t you need me to-?”

“I’ve got this,” Louis interrupts with a flash of a grin, slowly flicking the cap on the bottle and squirting some of the liquid onto three of his fingers. He moves his hand behind him and Harry can tell when he’s got a finger inside him; his cheeks colour and his eyes scrunch closed in pleasure as he moves his hips slightly. When there’s two, he throws his head back, moving quicker and Harry gently strokes the skin on his ribs.

“Calm down, Lou, don’t get too worked up. Can’t have you coming before I do, right?”

Louis’ eyes snap open at that, hardly any colour to be seen in them as he wipes his hand on the sheets and shuffles upwards until he’s hovering above Harry’s dick, a look of determination on his face. He tears open the condom wrapper using his teeth, rolls the condom down Harry’s length and slicks him up.

Harry can’t get a word out before Louis’ slowly lowering himself down until he’s got half of Harry’s cock inside of him and doesn’t look like he’s going to stop anytime soon. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Lou,” Harry grunts. “You’re so _tight._ ”

It isn’t long before Louis has bottomed out and his arse is cradled by Harry’s hips, pausing for a minute or so before lifting himself up a little and dropping back down again, dragging a loud sound of pleasure out of Harry’s throat.

Soon they’re moving together, Harry with his feet planted firmly on the mattress as he pushes up into Louis’ accepting body and Louis throwing his head back as his thighs scream from the exertion caused by moving himself up and down Harry’s dick. 

“Harry – I can’t – I need…”

“Don’t come yet Lou,” Harry warns.

“Harry, _please._ ”

At the sound of desperation in Louis’ voice, Harry feels right on the edge of orgasm, forcing himself upwards once, twice, three times before he’s emptying himself into the condom and letting out a sound he never thought he’d make. He goes to pull out but Louis stops him.

“Not yet.”

Then Louis’ coming on Harry’s chest, getting it right up to his neck, where it drips down and settles into his collarbones. The older boy flops down onto Harry’s chest and lets out a soft whine as the younger pulls out. 

“Was that okay?” Harry asks nervously, removing the condom and tying it as Louis rolls off him.

“I’d say a bit better than _okay,_ ” Louis replies, watching as Harry stands and walks into the bathroom. He returns with a damp flannel and uses it to clean the two of them up before tossing it onto the floor. 

“You seem to know a lot about what you’re doing for someone who’s never been with a guy,” Louis comments as they get under the covers.

“I’ve always wanted to be prepared for if this sort of thing ever happens,” Harry explains, Louis snuggling into his side and wrapping his limbs around him, like a koala.

“That’s cute,” Louis says, ducking his head to suck another lovebite into Harry’s neck. 

After a time of the room just being filled by the sound of Louis kissing his neck, Harry speaks again. 

“So, uh, what now?”

Louis freezes, letting out a sigh and eventually pulling back to look Harry straight in the eye. “Well, we both go home tomorrow.”

Harry nods slowly, not entirely confident with what to expect.

“And you leave before me – what time do you go?”

“The bus is coming at six.”

It’s now Louis’ turn to nod thoughtfully as his eyes move down to Harry’s lips, then his neck and finally off to the side. “I guess that’s it for us, then.”

There’s deadly silence as the two of them comprehend this. Harry can’t help but feel completely rejected; this boy – who actually really seemed to like him – would just sleep with him because it’s the final night and then just say ‘ _bye’,_ knowing that they’ll never see each other again? 

Well isn’t that just _dandy_.

Harry laughs bitterly and shakes his head in disbelief of his naiveté. “I knew it.”

Louis sucks in a deep breath before replying. 

“What are you talking about? Did you really think this would work out? That we’d carry on seeing each other is some sort of mad, long-distance relationship? It just wouldn’t work, Harry; it wouldn’t.”

“Oh trust me,” Harry says, moving out of Louis’ embrace, sliding off the bed and attempting to pull on his jeans while ignoring the hurt forming in his chest simultaneously, “I know. Why even bother trying, right? Who would even be worth it? Not me; not the boy who’s so stupid and pathetic that he finds himself falling for the first guy that’ll finally sleep with him. Not the boy who has to hide his sexuality from absolutely _everyone._ ”

Louis sharply sits up in bed and watches as Harry harshly pulls his t-shirt over his head.

“Well, you know what Harry? You find it hard being _in_ the closet? Why don’t you try being out of it!”

Harry rolls his eyes and slides his feet into his shoes, striding across to the adjoining door and grabbing the handle, turning back to Louis as an afterthought. 

“Nice meeting you, Louis. Enjoy the rest of your life.”

 

(And if he cries himself to sleep in his sister’s arms that night, no one has to know.)

 

(Especially not Louis.)

 

***

 

The next morning, Harry wakes up at quarter past four to the sound of his sister going round the room in a flap, folding up clean clothes and putting them in one side of her suitcase, shoving dirty clothes in the other. 

“C’mon, H! Are you even packed yet?” she asks, dragging the boy’s suitcase out from under his bed and throwing it open. “Of course not. Why did I waste my breath asking?”

Harry grumbles out some sort of response to do with getting up and drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom, where he showers and prepares himself for the long travel day ahead.

When he re-emerges, he sees that Gemma has already packed up most of his clothes as well as her own. 

“Thank you,” Harry says gratefully.

“You’re welcome,” Gemma replies. “And if you want to talk to me about anything, you can. I wasn’t really sure what you were saying when I got in last night; I just hope I was being at least _slightly_ comforting.”

“It must have been difficult, given with how drunk you were,” Harry comments.

Gemma punches his arm. “Cheeky sod.” There’s a pause before she adds, “I care about you; you know that, right? And I hate the fact that you thought you had to keep your sexuality a secret from me.”

The boy sighs, plopping down on the edge of his bed. “I didn’t know what you’d think.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Gemma says and sits beside him, putting an arm over his shoulder. “You’re my little brother; I’ll always be here for you.”

Harry smiles as his sister hugs him, and wishes that everyone thought the same.

 

***

 

“Hasn’t this week just flown?” Anne says as they walk out of the hotel foyer with their suitcases behind them. “It feels like we’ve been here for barely a day.”

Robin and Gemma voice their agreement as Harry just stares at the pavement below him, following his family to the bus stop just down the road. 

_Time flies when you’re having fun._

He thinks about that evening he had with Louis after the beach. They learnt so much about one another that night, and Louis just seemed to care so much about what he had to say. 

The stupid naïve part of Harry’s brain hoped that, after the time they’d spent together - especially with how quickly they moved from being friends to something a bit more – maybe Louis wouldn’t want it to end now. Harry can’t help but think of being Louis’ _boyfriend_ maybe; skyping each other every couple of days, sending each other cute texts and Snapchat photos – and changing his relationship status on Facebook to ‘ _In a Relationship with Louis Tomlinson’_.

But then the rational part of his brain reminds him how Louis shrugged off the _possibility_ of them becoming more than an extremely brief summer fling, and let Harry slam the door behind him without even trying to make him stay a bit longer.  

_Louis’ a bastard; he’s not worth it. Louis’ a bastard; he’s not worth it._

He repeats it in his head like a mantra, telling himself that it shouldn’t bother him.

His thoughts are then interrupted by the coach’s arrival, and he climbs aboard with Gemma as the cases are loaded on. They’re the first family, and the bus is a bit early, so the driver tells them that there’ll be a ten minute wait, at which Harry decides to shove his headphones in his ears and go to sleep, head against the window. 

 

A nudge to his arm wakes him up from his almost-sleep about three minutes later. 

“I faced the window so you wouldn’t blame me for slobbering on you,” Harry grumbles, eyes still closed. 

“There’s, uh, someone outside,” Gemma says in response, elbowing him again.

Harry’s eyes slowly open to reveal the last thing he expected to see at five minutes to six in the morning. 

Louis is stood on the pavement beside the bus, smiling in the orange light of sunrise and holding a piece of paper.

_Can you come and talk for a second?_ _❤_

Harry spins round to his sister, who shrugs before standing up and gesturing for Harry to go past. He shakily rises to his feet and shuffles down the aisle of the coach, stopping at the bottom step by the door, unable to go any further because Louis’ there.

“Hi,” he whispers, smile still shining on his face.

“What do you want, Louis?” Harry asks, slightly proud that he didn’t pounce on the other boy right away. 

When Louis opens his mouth to answer, another group of people turn up and Harry jumps down from the step and drags Louis to the side. “Seriously, if you’re just here to cause trouble, please leave.”

It’s _Louis_ that then pounces on _him,_ forcing their lips together for brief seconds before Harry’s pushing him off and taking a step back. “Fuck off.”

Harry can practically see the hopeful shine in Louis’ eyes disappear; can hear the other boy’s heart breaking.

“You had your chance,” Harry says, trying to stop his voice from wobbling, “and unless you’re here to tell me that you’ve reconsidered, you’re certainly not allowed to kiss me.”

Louis bites his lip. “I wanted to explain.”

Harry uses his hand to gesture a ‘ _go on’._

“I want things to end happily between us – in a way that says you were my summer love and I was yours – not in a few weeks when we realise that we can’t handle a long distance relationship. I _really_ like you, Harry – I don’t want this to end with you hating me.”

“Can’t we just be friends?” Harry asks as a last hope, feeling slightly pathetic, but if Louis ‘ _really likes him’_ , he doesn’t just want to let him go.

“Do you think either of us could last as ‘just friends’ for very long?”

Harry eventually shakes his head. “But would that really be a bad thing?”

“Trust me, babe, it would.”

Harry lets out a sigh and can feel the painful knot in his stomach which normally means he’s close to tears. “So we’ll never see each other again?”

Louis shakes his head. “’Fraid not.”

A sob finally leaves Harry’s throat then, and he can’t do anything but fall forward into Louis’ arms, tears soaking the other boy’s shirt, as he leans down awkwardly to nuzzle into Louis’ collarbone. 

“D-don’t forget me,” he mumbles.

“I don’t think I ever could,” Louis replies simply, stroking his hand through Harry’s curls gently. 

They pull apart after a minute or so, when the bus driver is closing the luggage storage doors, and everyone’s on the bus. 

“I’ll miss you,” Louis says softly.

“I’ll miss you too.”

They hug one last time before Harry reluctantly turns back to the bus. When one foot is on the bottom step, he looks back over his shoulder.

“You know what, Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“If we had more time,” Harry sniffs, “I could’ve loved you.”

A single tear rolls down Louis’ cheek, which he immediately wipes away. “I’m pretty sure I could’ve loved you too.”

It just takes one more ugly sob to break out of Harry’s mouth for Louis to stride over and take the younger boy’s face in his hands, pressing their lips together for the last time. It’s short but incredibly sweet, closed-mouth with just a light pressure that sends Harry’s mind spinning.

He thinks it could be one of the best kisses he’s ever had. 

“Bye, love,” Louis whispers when they pull apart. 

“Bye,” Harry squeaks, having to think about what he’s saying.

It’s not a ‘ _see you later_ ’ or a ‘ _see you soon_ ’.

It’s ‘ _bye’_.

It’s permanent.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you think!  
> Thanks for reading ❤
> 
> Next: Christmas Fic!
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com/)


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